Revelatory Easter

Easter at my folks' place was revelatory in regards to Kate, Genna, and Julia's nature.

Let me explain, no that will take too long. Let me sum up...

Kate (post-op, with the splint and sling), cruised the area where the easter bunny had left his chocolatey nuggets with delight. She, however, had interest in only one thing: candies that were wrapped in pink foil. She passed up mounds of other candies in her search for pink. Look into her bag for proof.

Julia, once told she could start hunting, paused after the first candy, unwrapped it, and stuffed it in her mouth. It took constant encouragement to have her take a break from eating the candy to go find more.

This short-sighted behavior is typical of two-year-olds (sheesh, almost three now). It's also typical of a girl who has an insatiable sweet tooth and lack of regard for herself (as seen in her willingness to climb anything, jump off anything, and unwillingness to hoard candy for future-Julia).

Look into her bag and you'll see lots of empty wrappers and bits of torn foil.

Genna grasped the purpose of the egg hunt with gusto. Telling her she could begin the hunt was like opening up the gates at a rodeo and letting the mad bull into the arena. She charged about, not discriminating as to color, and not bothering to eat. Her sole purpose was to ransack and pillage like a swarm of locusts, like the vikings of yore.

I was able to have her pause for this picture, and you can see that her eyes are wide and her pupils are dilated, like a lioness caught midstride as she charges a herd of wildebeests. That semi-smile is one of frenzied satisfaction.

You'll also note that her bag is the fullest.

We as a family have been steadily consuming the easter bunny's offerings. Kate and Julia's supplies have been nearly tapped out. But Genna's supply will take quite some time to exhaust.

Post-Op Kate Update

I'll have pictures posted once I get my computer set up (we just moved), but I wanted to give you all a quick update.

Kate is doing very well. The surgery lasted almost three hours, which was quite a bit longer than they told us. That, combined with watching our little four-year-old being wheeled away in a hospital bed by a bunch of strangers in scrubs, made for a stressful morning. But, in the end, all went well. Kate now has four pins in her elbow, and all the bone pieces fit together like a puzzle. The doctor said that Kate has "every chance of a full recovery."

She didn't end up with a pink cast. The doctor opted to put her back into a splint, since a cast requires a scary saw to remove it. Kate doesn't seem to mind. In six weeks she'll have to go in to get the pins removed (a 5 minute ordeal) and then she'll be splintless.

Kate took a good hour to come out from the disorientation caused by the anesthesia, but within twenty four hours she was walking around, and within forty eight she was dancing and singing and fighting with her sisters. All is back to normal, relatively speaking.

Thanks for all your prayers and well wishes.

Kate Update

It turns out that the nature of Kate's broken arm wasn't properly reported to us by the ER staff during her initial visit.

The follow-up meeting with orthopedics revealed that her fracture isn't a minor one to her radius. Rather, it is a significant one to her humerus, on a growth plate. That being the case, Annie and I are taking her in for surgery tomorrow morning to have two pins drilled into her bone. The procedure will last about an hour, and Kate will awaken to a full arm cast, mommy and daddy, and several princess DVDs to occupy her time.

It's a routine procedure, and unless I am wrong--and I am never wrong--all should go well. But your prayers are appreciated.

Will update.

A Trip to the ER

These photos of Kate were taken around midnight last night, just after Annie and I brought her home from the ER.

Earlier in the evening, she and her sisters and Sophie thought up a (brilliant) game involving jumping off the coffee table in unison. We had some (very obvious) misgivings about this, but before we were able to put a halt to it, the four girls went for one last jump. After they landed they all rolled away giggling, except for Kate, who began emitting an ear-splitting shriek.

Kate's a tough cookie, so we knew something was very wrong. I scooped her up and tried to soothe her. But within minutes, her left arm was swelling at the elbow. Though Kate soon calmed down, we knew that we were destined for the ER.

Kate was a trooper through all of it. She didn't cry again, despite the poking and prodding and being carried around and X-Rays. In the end, the Kaiser staff verified that she had a 'green stick' fracture of her left radius at the elbow. It would require immobilization and a follow-up visit for a cast (Kate already plans to have a pink one).

In the meantime, their phenomenal (he really was fantastic) orthopedic technician splinted her arm and supplied her with a dinosaur-themed sling. We were in and out in two hours, a possible world record for an ER visit.

Annie and I were very conscious through it all that the three of us were experiencing a moment that we will ever after refer to as "remember when Kate broke her arm..."

Brian and Chris, who had been over for dinner, stayed behind to man the fort and watch the kids. Thanks you two.

This whole event has supplied Annie and I with the perfect cautionary tale for the kids as they grow up. The next time they jump from furniture, we'll drop a "Remember how Kate broke her arm?" Or, if they get too rowdy on the bunkbed, "Kate's arm, remember?" If they start mouthing off or won't finish their peas, I'll point to Kate's arm. Now that is making lemonade out of a lemon.

You'll note that, throughout the entire ordeal, trusty horsey never left Kate's side.

Sitting Sam

Sam has been sitting up for a few weeks now. I decided to ge the camera down to his level and see the world as he sees it. Instead, I ended up seeing a Sam-centric world as I see it when at his level. It worked out just fine.

Enjoy.

Admit It

Look at the boy, all freshly woken up. Look at him with his comfy pjs and his fluffy blanket and the attendant blue bear. See those fists and those sleepy eyes? You want to snuggle Sam, admit it! Looking at this picture makes me feel drowsy. I want a blue blankey and bear of my own. A port-a-crib would be nice too.

Catastrophe

We had a catastrophe on our hands a couple days ago.

Kate lost horsey.

While at Sears getting Sam's photo taken, horsey became MIA. A Search and Rescue team was assembled and dispatched at once, consisting of Grandma and Auntie Kelly. Their only lead: Kate reported that she last saw horsey in a blue cart. That meant any cart in Sears.

Grandma and Kelly scrambled, first checking the outside carts. But there were only two, and both were empty. That meant that the horsey-holding cart had been taken inside by a customer. Bad news. They made their way inside and contacted the Sears staff, but there was no horsey in Lost and Found. More bad news. Undaunted, the team penetrated deeper into Sears with the mission of checking every blue cart in sight.

They had just given up hope when Kelly approached an abandoned cart in the middle of the store. There, all alone, rested Kate's precious horsey.

Catastrophe was averted by the quick action of Grandma and Auntie Kelly.

Now, Kate has a lot of stuffed animal friends, as evidenced by this photo. But if you look at either of them, you'll see horsey's pink, dingy rear end on the top of the heap in Kate's lap. Even amidst so much competition, horsey is always close at hand.

If you see Grandma or Auntie Kelly on the street, be sure to congratulate them on a job well done.

Metamorphosis

Look at this picture. Do you see Genna anywhere? I'll bet you don't.

When I went looking for her, all I could hear was laughter and squealing, and protestations that she wasn't in the toy bin. I believed her, so I looked all around the room. I still couldn't find her.

And then, much to my amazement, she emerged from the very toy bin she claimed not to be in! How did she do that?


But it wasn't Genna that emerged. No, what emerged from the chrysalis that is the toy bin was Genevieve Grace Lindsay the Tricker. That is her new, self-appointed title. And it turns out that this new being is quite the tricker.

Genna will come up to us and announce that she hasn't brushed her teeth, but she actually had! And no, she hadn't picked up the play room, but she actually had! She gets us every time.

Annie and I don't mind these treacherous dealings at all. Each time she tricks us, it turns out she did do everything we asked her to do.

On the other hand, Julia has become Julia Violet the Tricker. Only, she claims to have brushed her teeth, and she hasn't. And she claims to have picked up the playroom, and she hasn't. This trickery isn't nearly as productive.